it was a very hard week. very hard. very. very.

mr husband was home after midnight every night. and then out all day saturday, returning sometime after 3:30 in the morning. then he had to head back in to work straight after church.

i started to get sort of grumpy. angry at this stupid this. and this stupid that. is there anything to break your heart as thoroughly as seeing someone you love so exhausted, so mentally stretched, so sagging? i don’t think there is. there were a hundred times this week i just wanted to kidnap him from all those slave drivers down at the lab and take him somewhere verdant and green and quiet and let him take a nap.

it’s easy to be angry, isn’t it? it is. it’s easy for me to slip into thinking that things are as difficult as they could possibly be. that one more ounce of ouch and i will simply splinter.

but, i believe in a God who inspires. and luckily He never fails to inspire me at the moments that are the most angry and the most bitter. i’ve been reading gethsemene by andrew skinner. it is profound. i would quote some of its profundity but it’s in the room where mr husband is sleeping and i can’t imagine disturbing him. but the thing that has stuck in my mind is the idea of contradictions. that Christ lived a life of contradictions and to be true disciples ourselves, we must also live a life of contradiction.

which brings me to the coal miners. i often say to him, “at least you aren’t a coal miner.” and maybe before i was joking. but tonight i spent some time reading about the coal miner’s in kentucky and it humbled me. today i am thankful that mr husband does not have to walk into the dark of a mine with a pick ax. i’m grateful that he does not have to breathe in coal dust every day. i’m grateful that i do not have to worry that he will spontaneously combust when the methane catches fire. i’m grateful that we have a home and not a tar paper shanty. i’m grateful that the probability of the roof collapsing on his head is relatively low. i’m grateful that he does not have to set explosives.

the take home message then is not that life could always be worse (not a very helpful take home message), but that life is always difficult and always extreme. and we are strengthened by that extremity. we develop tenderness. and mercy. would i empathize with those coal miner’s wives who must have wrung their hands and feared a mine collapse if i didn’t also lay awake at night hoping that mr husband had not fallen asleep behind the wheel?

so, today i am grateful for everyone before me who has weathered extremity. and i’m grateful for kindness because kindness is born of extremity. and i’m grateful to be so surrounded by bounty. and for all those people in my life who have taught me how to share it.

yes. hello universe. i haven’t written in ages because my lucky old compaq decided to visit the moon without me. and then i started feverishly painting furniture for my house. (hello orange desk! i love you.) and then on to setting traps for mouse.

so, back to the beginning. i’m mad. i’m really mad. and sad. and a little upset. (and exhausted. but i think that’s permanent.)

here’s why. i started taking a medicine about eight weeks ago that made me gain weight. and we’re not talking a little bit. we’re talking weight. like someone handing you a bucket of rocks and saying, here! fellow human, put this bucket of rocks in your stomach. i somehow managed to amass over 25 extra pounds in less than six weeks, which is sort of amazing to consider. needless to say, i feel disgusting. and i’m off the medicine and despite my doctor assuring me that the weight would disappear, nothing has disappeared. none of my clothes fit. i have puffy squirrel cheeks. mirrors make me uncomfortable. and i don’t know what to do.

i imagine people still like me okay, but despite knowing intellectually that weight has not much to do with anything, i cannot lie and say i don’t care. i do care. i care a lot. and i don’t know what to do. if i think to myself, i won’t eat sugar, i immediately eat twice as much sugar. if i think to myself, i will exercise longer, then somehow i don’t even manage to exercise at all. it’s like satan wants me to carry these 25 pounds around forever. like they’re a symbol of something sinister.

but i’ve noticed that all problems tend to diminish once you say them out loud. especially in front of a very public place stuffed with strangers. (hi, internet.) does the wisdom of the interwebs have any advice? (extra points if you can answer like dear abby.)

i have been gone. i like sounding existential, but really, my laptop imploded and i’m not internetting much these days. i spend my free time buried in sewing. my bedroom is covered with pins. my poor husband asked if i would mind picking up the ones on his side of the bed.

which brings me to the point, i’m at the international quilt festival in houston. fabric! notions! old ladies in patchworked, quilted vests! heaven on earth. expect a full report sometime after i find the windows vista startup CDs…

yeah, it was my birthday. yesterday. i’m thirty-something. not afraid to tell you my age, just like the way thirty-something sounds.

and i’m a fan of the birthday list, so here it goes. some more things you might not know.

1. i used to sit in the milk box.
2. i don’t like peas. or buttercream frosting.
3. i’ve never made anything with burlap.
4. i played first-chair flute in seventh grade.
5. i was politely asked to leave marching band in high school.
6. i had a gecko. it smelled.
7. i ate bacon for dinner.
8. i’ve only kissed one person. i’ve only married one person. (it’s the same person.)
9. i kind of like doing the laundry. it makes me feel successful.
10. someday i will finish my novel and you can read it and call me brilliant.
11. i have a hopeless and fierce crush on patrick stewart.
12. i used to collect travel brochures for new zealand in elementary school. i had a three ring binder full… i planned a trip for our family and priced everything out. someday i’ll go.
13. i hate doing homework for pre-k. i mean, come on. you’re sending homework with a 4-year-old, who’s gonna do it?
14. i went to disneyland when i was eight and it terrified me.
15. i touched a dolphin and it was pretty much transcendent.
16. i want to take this class.
17. can’t wait for this.
18. pretty proud of this, even though i had nothing to do with it.
19. i check the weather online several times a day.
20. i drive a 4runner.
21. growing up i had a keeshond. (the plural is keeshonden.)
22. when i was thirteen i was going to name my first two children peter and madeleine, respectively.
23. the thought of licking jam off a spoon makes me gag.
24. my favorite show is project runway.
25. every time tim gunn says “parsons” or “mood” i want to pee my pants.
26. i took russian in high school.
27. i took ice skating as a college freshman for my gym credit. still can’t ice skate.
28. i also took bowling. still can’t bowl.
29. i feel vain about my hair.
30. i do not feel vain about my ankles.
31. really, i just posted that it was my birthday so that you would comment and say you love me.
32. i wear chacos pretty much every day.

there is a toot and puddle book titled “you are my sunshine.” i don’t want to spoil it by repeating the plot (because, really, how much plot can you have in a few dozen pages?), but i will tell you that at the end there is a rainstorm. and the rainstorm clears the air.

that’s how i’m feeling today. like the past weeks i was holding my breath. stressed. concerned. overworked. overtired. sullen. blue. and then there was this storm. lightening and rain and thunder so loud i woke up in the middle of the night. and somehow all those soaked sidewalks and spilling rain gutters cleaned out whatever was brooding inside of me.

i feel sort of clean. perhaps more awake. and a little bit new. ready to tackle all the projects bumping against each other in my head. paint some furniture. embroider some stockings. sew for my nieces. finish halloween costumes. border my garden. clean out the garage. finish hanging the pictures. start my zig zag quilt.

what’s crowding your mind this october?